Cale examined the bedclothes as well as he could in the dark, and found that he had a pillow and, what was better than all, two quilts, which he could tear up, fasten to the chair, and thus let himself down from the window. He chuckled to himself and devoted his attention to the viands. By the time he had got through the sentry opened the door, and Cale saw a light streaming in.
“Oh, I’m here yet,” said Cale.
“I know you are,” said the man. “And you’re going to stay there until you come out to be hung.”
“All right. But you won’t hang me until you catch my brother. He had the most to do with talking with that captain.”
“No matter. You was knowing to it all, and that counts for a heap against you.”
The sentry closed the door, and in an instant Cale was on his feet. Things had to be done in a hurry, and quietly, too, for in an hour more the man would look in to see if his prisoner was all right. It was something of a job to tear the quilts; but fortunately he had them all done at last, and when he knotted them together he was glad to see how long they were. He didn’t think he would be obliged to drop more than ten feet.
The next thing was opening the window and fastening the quilts to the chair; but he accomplished it without alarming the sentinel, and drawing in a long breath, he launched himself over the side of the window and heard the chair bang loudly as he threw his weight upon the quilts. In his haste the quilts did not do much toward assisting him to the bottom, for he slid rapidly down them and landed all in a heap under the window just as the sentry opened the door to see what was going on.
“Are you there yet, Cale?” asked the man, as he looked all around the room. “By gracious, he has gone!”
With two jumps the man reached the window and leaned over and looked out. Everything was concealed by darkness, and even the crouching Cale, who was close to the wall, right under the man’s gaze, escaped his notice. Then the man thought of his rifle. He rushed back into the hall and got it, fired it once out of the window, and then went down-stairs to tell the men what an extraordinary escape Cale had made. This was the time for the prisoner to make the most of his opportunity. He arose to his feet and made good time across the narrow cotton-field that lay between him and the woods, and he never ceased running until he reached the banks of a little bayou a mile back in the forest, where he stopped and sat down to rest.
“There, sir,” said Cale, wiping the big drops of perspiration from his forehead. “I’ve done it; as sure as the world I have done it. That is the first time I ever was put in jail for something I didn’t do. Let them get somebody else and talk about hanging them. Now, if I could only find Dan.”